Must work for food?

Thank you for all the e-mails to the lovely kitty at this domain because of my entirely too long of an absence. Like, the whole month of November. You see, my asshole of a Mommy decided to participate in National Novel Writing Month, so she held the computer hostage while she pounded out her 50,000 words. And the bitch says she ain't done, but screw her, I need computer time, too!

Mommy's been in bit of a dither lately -- always rushing here and there and working a lot and going out of town (grrrr at the last one). But she is taunting me because, last week, she went to the store and bought herself a treat and bought Kadi and me some food. Well, her dumb ass accidentally left her human treat (Hershey kisses, the candy-coated ones that are like misshapen M&Ms) in the car BUT she took the Whiskas wet food up to her office!

And for days, the can of cat food has sat on her bookcase at work. I keep asking when the fuck she's gonna think about her poor, starving Calico and bring the goddamned thing home already, but she keeps forgetting. Today, she just told me I will simply have to come get a job with her so I can eat the food as my lunch. ASSHOLE!